


Untitled Voyeur Fic

by betterrecieved, HashSlingingSlasher



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashSlingingSlasher/pseuds/HashSlingingSlasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet.  <a href="http://shellie-beans.tumblr.com/">shellie-beans</a> prompted: How about a hot mastubatory tiny fic of Nasir jerking it to hot images of Castus. As he is about to cum, Agron walks by the tent and hears Nasir's moaning of Castus's name and this urges him to go off and fight with Crixus.</p><p>NOT a threesome fic, I dunno how I made that mistake in the pairing, sorry!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Voyeur Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with [shellie-beans](http://shellie-beans.tumblr.com/)

“And do I mistake your eyes stealing glance as I pass?”

And Nasir can only lower his flushed face, feel himself harden under intensity of Castus’ stare.

When Agron works late into night, planning upcoming battle with Spartacus, tent is cold without him, and Nasir warms himself through with wine.

Too much wine, Nasir realizes, and soon breath from lips is catching, catching, and he is caught, his hand dragging down his stomach to wrap loosely around his cock. 

Tension of Castus’ words releases with every stroke, every sigh, every say of Castus’ name. 

Crouching pirate, fire and knowing look that bathes Nasir in confusion.  Hard brown chest, glistening in light of fire, pectorals so smooth and round Nasir longs to reach out and stroke them. 

Would he stroke them, were Castus here now? But gods protect him from pirate’s glowing brown eyes, from falling deeper one glance, one accidental brush of fingers at a time down into terrifying chasm of lust:  tent flap remains closed.

“Castus,” he moans.

And tent-flap opens wide.

*

Exhausted, Agron approaches the tent after a prolonged conference with Spartacus. The day has been long and he seeks comfort int he arms of his lover.  He rotates his right arm and stretched the muscles. Training the new recruits have taken a lot out of him. He pauses at the tent flap and hears heavy breathing. 

Agrons mouth falls open and he smirks for a minute. nasir must be priming himself for his thick cock  in advance tonight. He has to admit, that he had been busy lately, working extra hard on plans for the resistance..

“Castus!”

Agron’s blood freezes.  That should be his name on Nasir’s lips, while he is touching himself. Agron hears wet and heavy motions along with suppressed moans.  the sounds of a hand sliding up and down an engorged cock grow more frantic, and Agrons’s brows twitch downwards further. 

He looks down at his own cock, and surprisingly finds it at half mast. He peeks in the curtains to check  in on Nasir and…

*

And Nasir is sitting upon bedding, eyes wide, hands in his clothed lap.  He is flushed, he is breathing hard, and he looks so guilty, so ashamed, that Agron does not have heart to beat him down with accusing words.

Not when thoughts of Nasir’s hurried, frantic hand cause Agron’s cock to strain against material of his subligar. 

Not now that plan, recently begun to coalesce within Agron’s mind, has finally taken on final shape. 

“Agron,” Nasir begins, his bottom lip beginning to tremble.  He is going to cry, and Agron must prevent it, must leave Nasir with Spartacus feeling hopeful of future happiness instead of shameful at present attraction.

“Shh,” Agron says, lowering himself to bedding, taking Nasir into his arms.   Smell of wine is strong on Nasir’s breath. “Was I so sorely missed that you now take to drink?”

Nasir nods against his shoulder.  “I feel better of late when you are near,” he says softly, looking up with at Agron with glistening brown eyes.

Agron strokes Nasir’s long silken hair, squeezes him tightly.  There is undeniable ring of truth in Nasir’s words. And unspoken opening for further speech, but Agron only kisses Nasir’s clammy forehead.  “Yet you are strong without me.”

Brief battle wages across lovely planes of Nasir’s face.  He is decisive when he at last speaks.  “I am your _warrior_.”

“One I am most proud of,” Agron murmurs.  And Agron undresses him, reclaims him from Castus with his cock, filling tent with groans of  “ _Ag-_ gron!”

Agron will advance with Crixus upon hated nation of Rome. 

And Nasir will cry for him, he will plea, but Agron will not be swayed, because in arms of Cilician, Nasir will _live_.


End file.
